


Frag Off

by BlairFagin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlairFagin/pseuds/BlairFagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus decides the best way to decide duties aboard the Lost Light is by interface. Megatron decides to just go with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frag Off

**Author's Note:**

> No beta for this piece, so be warned. Based off an idea by Ceryskitty.

“You want to what?” asked Megatron, not sure what he had just heard.

Rodimus rolled his optics and scoffed. “We’re going to frag to determine which unlucky mech has to stay aboard, while the other gets to go down and party during shore leave. Ultra Magnus said it was up to the two of us to decide, so I thought a little competition was in order.”

Megatron’s glare deepened as he stared at his fellow co-captain sat across the desk. A part of him wondered how Rodimus had thought that interfacing was a suitable way to choose duties, but the other part of him that had been born on the Lost Light just wrote it off as the usual everyday insanity. 

“And what led you to decide that the appropriate course of action would be to interface?”

“One simple reason,” said Rodimus with a smirk. “Interface is the one thing I’m better at than anyone else.” 

Red optics narrowed as Megatron looked at Rodimus’ gloating face. The thought of wiping that slag eating grin off Rodimus face was a tempting one. A punch to the jaw would have been Megatron’s usual method, but that was unfortunately no longer an option. Besides, Rodimus stretched out before him, panting and flushed as he screamed Megatron’s name was much more appealing. 

He sat in silence for a few moments, looking Rodimus’ frame up and down. The bright coloured plating, recently touched up with paint and buffed. It was just waiting for dents, scratches and blemishes to be added. Those smooth edges of the plating drew his optics and he followed them across Rodimus’ sleek frame. He knew that sensitive wires lay between seams and how easy it would be to tease them until they hummed with charge. It was a perfect frame that, although it belonged to a very imperfect mech, no doubt possessed a glorious valve.

“And what would be the rules of this little deal?”

Rodimus crawled onto Megatron’s desk, trying to be seductive, but only managing to make Megatron wince as his carefully written reports were knocked onto the floor. He licked his derma and placed his servos on Megatron’s shoulders. 

“So is that a yes?”

Megatron swatted a servo away. “No, that is me asking for the rules and then I’ll think about it.” 

“Oh,” said Rodimus and then he straightened slightly. “Right, so the rules are whoever overloads first loses and has to stay behind while the other gets to go down on shore leave and live it up.” 

It was a tempting offer, a frag and then a holiday afterwards. Well, it would have been tempting if Megatron actually wanted to go down to that filthy organic planet with the rest of the crew. Even though he was trying to leave his genocidal days behind, he still found that something about organics made him want to purge his tanks. Also the crew were starting to wear down his very limited patience. Slowly but surely they had been getting braver around him, which unfortunately meant that they had took to bothering him relentlessly. He could barely walk from his hab suite to his office without someone chatting his audial off, talking about something someone else had done to upset them and as captain shouldn’t he do something about it. Staying behind on the Lost Light while the crew wreaked havoc on some poor planet was the break he desperately needed. 

On the other servo, his spike was stirring to life in its casing and Rodimus’ tempting frame was right in front of him. 

With a smooth movement Megatron took Rodimus’ servo and kissed the palm. “We’ll need more rules than that, to make it fair. Knowing you there will be some way to easily cheat.”

Dim optics blinked a few times before it registered what Megatron had said.

“Yeah, that would be a good idea,” said Rodimus as he watched Megatron kiss the captured servo. “How about when it comes to foreplay the rule is we’re only allowed to touch each other’s interface equipment at the same time. So if you’re fingering my valve then I have to have my servo on your spike. And the same goes with oral, so I don’t suck you off until you’re almost ready to overload.” 

A hum of confirmation was all Megatron could reply with, he was too busy sucking on Rodimus’ fingers one by one. 

“So, uh. Is that a yes?” asked Rodimus. 

Megatron let the fingers slide from his mouth, a thin string of oral lubricant still connecting them. “It’s a yes.”

Megatron then yanked Rodimus into his lap and their derma clashed in a forceful kiss. 

Straight away Megatron sought out Rodimus’ weaknesses, his servo seeking out the spoiler trembling on Rodimus’ back. He ran a digit along the spoiler’s edge, scratching at the metal until he found the sweet spot that elicited a full frame shudder from Rodimus. With the other servo he caught those delicious hips in a crushing grip and pulled Rodimus forward, so Megatron could grind their panels together.

The sweet gasp that escaped Rodimus’ vocaliser left Megatron conflicted. He had planned on letting Rodimus win their little competition, just barely, but Megatron had planned to lose nonetheless. But every little writhe and every little moan was delicious. Megatron imagined his victory, Rodimus’ limp frame splayed across Megatron’s desk, blissed out from an overload as Megatron continued to pound into his soppy valve. His spike hit his panel with a thud and he tried to rid himself of the fantasy, he would be finished far too soon otherwise. He would decide what to do later when he was inside Rodimus. 

Gentle digits ran over Megatron’s frame, scratching lightly and seeking out any sensitive points. Good, Rodimus was returning the foreplay finally. It was a nice stroke of his ego that his fondling of Rodimus’ frame had rendered the other useless, but he had at least wanted his opponent to put up a fight. 

Megatron broke the kiss. “Search harder, Rodimus. It’ll be a while before you find anything. Tanks aren’t as sensitive as speedsters.”

Rodimus’ engine revved and he narrowed his optics. “Everyone has a weak spot,” he replied, not pausing in his search. “Everyone. I’ll find yours Megs, just you wait.”

“Search faster, while my spike is still hard. Otherwise yo- AH!” 

“Gotcha,” said Rodimus and he dug his servos deeper into the treads on the back of Megatron’s arm. 

It was difficult to keep his arms from trembling as Rodimus assaulted them with hard pinches and soft caresses. But he pushed on. 

“Be a good boy and open up for me,” said Megatron, stroking the hinges of Rodimus’ spoiler. 

“Only if you return the favour and show me your spike,” replied Rodimus, gritting his denta as he tried to supress a moan. 

Megatron tutted. “So demanding you are. But, very well. Just hope you can handle it.” 

With a hiss of pressure Megatron’s panel retracted and his spike sprung free, bumping against Rodimus’ thigh.

Rodimus’ jaw dropped for a moment before he quickly shut it, trying to shrug off his shock. “You have an okay spike there, Megs. I’ll make do.” A tentative hand reached for Megatron’s spike.

“Oh, none of that,” said Megatron as he caught Rodimus’ wrist. “You still owe me a look at yours.”

Years of backstabbing and tricks of the Decepticon high command had taught Megatron to hide his true thoughts and feelings. His permanent scowl wasn’t just a show of his constant disapproval, it was a mask carefully cultivated in defence, mostly from Starscream. So he was able to keep his faceplates exactly the same when Rodimus tilted his hips towards him and bared his valve. 

The metal folds were a soft yellow, a muted version of his chest plate, but between the soft plates’ thin lines of red peaked out. The thin red lines made Rodimus’ valve folds appear plumper and they were already deliciously plump and full, so very tantalising. Two anterior nodes decorated the valve’s exterior, one sat glowing and swollen at the top, while the other was almost hidden by the valve folds. It was located down between the valve and port, connected to its twin by glowing sensory lines, which disappeared between the valve folds. Did they just pass the entrance or did they circle around it? 

“Hm, not the best valve, but I’m sure it’ll service me well enough,” lied Megatron as he slipped two digits between the folds and spread them.

The sensory lines did indeed encircle the valve, right along the edge, so when the entrance was stretched wide it would send jolts of pleasure to the two nubs. If he hadn’t such a tight grip on his emotions Megatron would have groaned in longing. He wanted nothing more than to place his helm between those thighs and eat that valve as Rodimus screamed Megatron’s name. Make him clutch Megatron’s helm for dear life, make him babble and beg for more. Maybe another time, he would make sure that Rodimus returned for more.

“Well, it looks like you’re at a disadvantage. This valve was built to make overloading as easy as possible. And my spike was built to make mechs scream.”

“I can see that,” said Rodimus as he took Megatron’s spike in his servo, digits teasing the thick ridges. “But, hey, I’m not one to back down from a challenge.”

Megatron leant in close so his derma brushed Rodimus’ audials. “Even though you know you’ll lose?”

Rodimus turned to look at Megatron, their derma almost touching. “Try me,” he whispered.

Megatron hilted two fingers deep in Rodimus valve, which already slick with lubricant. “Now you’ve done it. You’re going to beg me for mercy.”

A flash of red hot pleasure jolted through Megatron’s body and then again. He glanced down and saw the very tip of Rodimus’ finger dragging against a very sensitive part of Megatron’s spike.

“I’ve been around the block, Megs. I know every trick that could be slapped on a spike. You’ve got some neat little mods on minitron, like these bare wires hidden in the groove along your spike. During interface they bleed off charge, making it feel so fragging good on your partner’s nodes. But it also means that if anything gets into that groove you feel it just as bad.” 

A quick pinch to Rodimus’ main nub was quickly delivered in retaliation. “Looks like we’ll be skipping the foreplay and getting to the main event.”

It was simple and easy to flip Rodimus and push him face first down on Megatron’s desk. “Hold on tight, this isn’t going to be gentle in the slightest.” 

Megatron slammed Rodimus’ head down on the desk, gripped his spoiler and thrust in deep with a hard thrust, spreading Rodimus’ valve wide open.

“Ah! Frag!” shouted Rodimus and he quickly gripped the desk, hanging on as it rocked.

True to his word, Megatron showed no mercy. Not sparing Rodimus a second to adjust before he was thrusting back and forth at a relentless pace. 

Just as Rodimus’ valve was a work of art on the outside it was a masterpiece of engineering on the inside. It adjusted to Megatron’s sizeable girth with ease, while still keeping a tight grip. Little bumps lined the inside along with the inner nodes, existing for the purpose of scraping the sensitive ridges of Megatron spike, but thankfully unable to reach the bare wires that were bleeding off charge, staving off Megatron’s overload and drawing Rodimus closer to his.

“Ah, frag me harder!”

Megatron picked up his pace, slamming into Rodimus’ valve with strength he rarely had the freedom to use in interface. It felt so good, Megatron increased the release of charge even more to drag out his overload longer than necessary. He had made up his mind, going down for shore leave was worth fragging Rodimus through a processor blowing overload. 

“You’re going to scream my name,” promised Megatron, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. 

“Right back at you, Megs.”

Megatron bit down on his glossa to stifle a yelp. Rodimus valve had… vibrated? 

“Like that? That’s, uh, not a mod. Just a little trick I picked up. Good enough control over your valve and you can do this fluttering movement without having to get a vibrating mod,” Rodimus gasped out. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Think you’ll be able to bleed off enough charge through those wires fast enough? Too much bled off at once and you’ll blow them out.”

Rodimus was craftier than Megatron had expected, he’d give him that. But he had still made one damning mistake. He’d shown all his cards too soon, while Megatron still had plenty left. 

He released Rodimus’ helm to thumb the nub between Rodimus’ valve and port, slippery with lubricant.

“That all you got, Megs? You’re going to have to try harder than- AH! FRAGGING PRIMUS!”

A chuckle was allowed to escape as Megatron flared the plating of his spike, stretching to walls of Rodimus’ valve and dragging against every single node with torturous intensity. At the same time energon flowed into his spike, swelling it so it gained even more girth.

Oral lubricants drooled from Rodimus’ derma as all he could do was gasp and whine. He was helpless as Megatron fragged him through the desk. Megatron allowed himself a moan, wanting nothing more than to cut off the release of charge and spill into that tight valve. It wouldn’t be long though, by the way Rodimus’ body twitched and writhed Megatron could tell he was on the edge of overload. 

Megatron picked up his pace, reaching new speed and force as he slammed into Rodimus’ valve. But despite his estimates Rodimus didn’t tip over into overload. So, not that close after all, despite the signs pointing to otherwise. Regardless Megatron was positive that Rodimus would overload soon.

He didn’t though, no matter what Rodimus seemed no closer than he had minutes before. He was on the edge, no doubt about it, but Megatron somehow couldn’t tip him over it. He had to do something fast, otherwise Megatron would overload first. He flipped Rodimus over without pulling out and leant down to catch his derma in a forceful kiss as he fisted Rodimus’ forgotten spike. 

Rodimus whined and gasped into the kiss, body trembling with intense force, but he still refused to overload. 

Megatron wracked his processor, but before he could find a solution his overload snuck up and washed over him. He came deep in Rodimus’ valve, transfluid gushing against Rodimus’ ceiling node.

With a scream that sounded suspiciously like Megatron’s name Rodimus finally came, a mere moment after Megatron.

“What?” gasped Megatron as he braced his servos on either side of Rodimus.

“That was intense, fragging pit,” laughed Rodimus. “We have to do this again sometime, solve everything aboard this ship like this.”

“I lost! But how?”

Rodimus patted Megatron’s shoulder and wriggled out from under him slightly, Megatron’s limp spike falling from his valve. “It was close though. I guess, better luck next time, old man.

Megaton fell back in his chair, vents working in overdrive and processor spinning. He was dimly aware that Rodimus had stumbled to his shaky peds and made a quick exit. 

He couldn’t believe it. He had lost! Rodimus had somehow bested him in interface. Maybe he really was getting old?

….

Rodimus shook like leaf as he stood in the wash racks, cold solvent pouring over his hot frame. Despite the sheer fatigue he felt, satisfaction had kept him going. He had shown Megs up at last! 

Of course he had cheated, but it still felt good. Primus bless his ability to keep his charge from tripping into overload at will, keeping him on the edge of overload indefinitely. If the mech who had installed the mod was still alive he would have called him up to thank him. 

He wondered if Megs suspected what had happened. It wasn’t a secret the mod existed, it was just extremely dangerous due to the intense heat that would build. It was enough to melt the internals of an ordinary mech, but Rodimus was no ordinary mech. The build-up of heat was nothing to a mech who could walk through infernos and ride asteroids plummeting towards the surface of a planet. 

Rodimus moaned as the solvent finally managed to bring his frames temperature down to something normal. He readjusted the temperature and sank to his knees, slumping to the side so he could rest his frame against the wall. 

He couldn’t wait for the next round between him and Megatron. He knew the mech would be back for more, wanting to avenge his wounded pride. His panel opened automatically and a servo drifted down to the abused folds of his valve. Yes, another round would be good. 

Maybe next time he’d even let Megs win.


End file.
